Marita and I were walking along the Centre Road shops on Saturday when we saw a passport on the ground. We picked it up. From the cover, photo, and identifying marks inside, it appeared to belong to an Australian-Canadian boy of Asian (perhaps Chinese) appearance. Looking around, we couldn’t see him. A couple of bystanders suggested asking in the travel agent, which was next door. Maybe he’d dropped it after visiting them.
The travel agents didn’t know, but they said they’d hold onto it (and presumably send it into the authorities).
Ten minutes later, walking home, we passed a young guy, walking along slowly, looking a little sullen, eyes to the ground.
I had one of those light bulb moments, and ran after him. “Excuse me! Did you lose a passport?”
His eyes lit up. He had. He’d been visiting his father (who lives locally) from his home in Vancouver (where his mother lives). He made it clear his dad hadn’t been delighted to hear the passport had been lost. “He was shouting…”
Yeah. Sigh. I probably would too.
We led him back to the travel agents. He seemed very relieved. Good deed done for the day.